


The Cellars Of Gladstone House

by flawedamythyst



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-06
Updated: 2011-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-15 11:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How John and Sherlock came into the guardianship of Gladstone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cellars Of Gladstone House

The cellar of Gladstone House went on a lot further than John had been expecting. Sherlock hurried down the dank corridors, checking each door as they came to it. If he was right, then there was a teenage girl down here somewhere and possibly an unknown number of kidnappers. John had one hand in his coat pocket, resting on his gun as he followed Sherlock, and kept a close eye on the corridor behind them, just in case.

Sherlock threw open another door and then paused for a fraction of a second. “Ah,” he said quietly.

“What is it?” asked John.

“Not the girl,” said Sherlock, shutting the door and continuing on to the next door.

John scowled at his back and opened the door to see for himself.

It was just an empty concrete-floored room like all the others, except that in the middle was a shoebox containing what looked at first glance to be a pile of old cloth. “What...” he started to say, then his eyes managed to make sense of the shapes and a litter of puppies came into focus. “Oh god,” he said, hurrying forward and crouching down to check on them.

There was no sign of their mother and no way for her to get in or out of the room in any case, so John was not overly surprised when he realised that most of them were already dead. Sickened, but not surprised.

“Who would do something so horrible?” he asked. They must have been shut in here and abandoned, left to starve or freeze to death.

“The same people who would imprison a girl just to get their hands on a jewel,” said Sherlock, who had come back and was now hovering in the doorway. “There's nothing you can do, John.”

There was a faint movement in the box, so tiny that John thought for a moment he'd imagined it. “This one's still alive,” he exclaimed, moving aside tiny, limp bodies to find the one that was still barely breathing.

“I doubt he will be for long,” said Sherlock. He glanced back down the corridor. “Come on, John, we need to find the girl before the kidnappers find us.”

John carefully picked the puppy up in his hands and it weakly twitched, reacting to the warmth of his body. “Give me your scarf,” he demanded.

Sherlock stared at him. “What on earth for? You can't mean to bring that with us – what on earth would we do with it?”

“Keep it alive,” said John firmly. He cradled the puppy to his chest with one hand and held out his hand towards Sherlock. “Scarf. Now.”

Sherlock made a disgusted noise, but took his scarf off. “I like this one,” he said petulantly. “I don't particularly wanting a dying puppy all over it.”

“It's not dying,” said John, carefully wrapping the puppy in the scarf to keep it warm. The puppy was moving slightly more now, coming back to life, and he couldn't resist running a gentle finger over its head. “It's okay, little guy,” he said to it. “We're going to take good care of you.”

“'We'?” repeated Sherlock pointedly, then sighed. “Come on, John, there really isn't time for this.”

John stood up carefully with the puppy snuggled against his jumper. “I'm ready,” he said. “Let's go.”

Sherlock let out a long-suffering sigh as if John had only rescued the puppy to inconvenience him, then continued on down the corridor. John followed him, one hand holding on to the puppy, and one resting on his gun.


End file.
